


5-The Amazing Adventures of Ass Master & Slut Boy

by WritestuffLee



Series: The Warrior's Heart, Volume 4, The Long Shadow [5]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: AU, Drama, F/M, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-11
Updated: 2007-01-11
Packaged: 2017-12-10 15:37:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritestuffLee/pseuds/WritestuffLee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruck plans a cool nameday gift for Obi-Wan, but it goes badly awry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5-The Amazing Adventures of Ass Master & Slut Boy

**Author's Note:**

> For Moonshine, who instigated it, and for Fuumin, whose work is an inspiration and incitement to riot.

“Ask him what?” Obi-Wan sputtered, looking at Bruck as though he’d grown another head.

“Ask him if he wants to come along. You know he thinks the two of us are hot together. I’m sure it’d ‘amuse’ him to no end to see you grinding up against me on a dance floor. Besides, he deserves a little fun. How often is he going to get to dance with you anymore?”

Obi-Wan stepped back and regarded Bruck with suspicion. They were in the changing rooms, both wearing nothing but damp towels after a long and strenuous sparring session and a hot shower. Obi-Wan had been back on Coruscant for only a few days after his first solo duty tour. Bruck had arrived late the previous night with his master.

“What’s this really all about? Did he put you up to it?”

Bruck flushed, and Kenobi knew he’d struck a nerve somewhere. “No, he didn’t put me up to it. I just—”

“You just what?”

“I feel a little bad going off with you on your third night home and leaving Qui-Gon behind,” Bruck confessed. “He’s really missed you, Ben. I don’t think he’d let on how much because he wouldn’t want to make it harder for you—”

“Although you seem to have no such compunction,” Obi-Wan interjected wryly.

Bruck ignored him. “—but I think he’s really been lonely. You know how seldom you two eat in the refectory when you’re together? He’s been there for every meal since you left. When there’s no one there he knows, he looks a little . . . lost, somehow. I’ve seen him when I’ve been sitting with Isa. He never wants to interrupt us, but when I’m there alone and no one else is there, he sits with me. Let’s take him out.”

“Clubbing? You can’t be serious. Dinner, more likely. A performance, perhaps.”

“Just ask him. See what he says. If it’s no, then we’ll do something else. But invite him, for Force’s sake. What can it hurt?”

Truth be told, Obi-Wan felt a little guilty himself. Little gods knew he’d missed both of them during the halfyear he’d been gone. And he knew from experience how hard it had been on both himself and Qui to be separated. During the last few days, they’d been making up for lost time: sleeping late—or in Qui’s case, lying close and holding Obi-Wan until he woke; eating their meals in—Qui-Gon making plain his appreciation of Obi-Wan’s cooking; and doing little more than cuddling shamelessly in the evenings. They’d made love often, but the initial fever had burned itself into a warm coal as they’d carefully experimented with the bond. Even so, Qui-Gon had contrived to be as little away as possible and Obi-Wan had scheduled his own chores during those times. Only yesterday they’d sparred together again for the first time since Qui-Gon’s injury. That had been a deep pleasure, and a relief to see how well Qui-Gon had recovered. He was certainly well enough for this kind of exertion.

And frankly, it appealed to Obi-Wan as well. Although the three of them had never gone to the clubs before, he and Bruck went regularly, and he and Qui-Gon certainly had danced together any number of times. A not-too-distant reception on Alderaan came particularly to mind. The three of them together in such a place would be . . . interesting.

“All right. But he’ll probably suggest something else,” Obi-Wan warned.

“That’s fine,” Bruck shrugged with a little too much nonchalance. Kenobi continued to cast suspicious looks in his direction as they dried off and dressed again.

 

Qui-Gon surprised him by accepting the invitation as offered.

“I’m flattered you’d ask an old man like me,” Qui-Gon replied with much amusement. He was obviously pleased, as well. Obi-Wan flung himself down next to him on the couch. They’d finished dinner and were at that cusp of either settling in for the evening or going out. Qui-Gon gathered him in and Obi-Wan leaned against him with a little hum of pleasure, curling his hand inside Qui-Gon’s thigh. Either option seemed agreeable enough to him, though he’d already promised Bruck a night out.

“It was Bruck’s idea, but if I’d known before, I would have invited you sooner. You’re certain you wouldn’t prefer dinner out somewhere another night or something else?”

“You mean something more sedate and dignified and more my age? No,” Qui-Gon replied slowly in a thoughtful voice, mischief creeping in. “You and Bruck needed time alone together before this. But tonight, actually, I think I’d like to come out with the two of you. I don’t get to dance with you often enough, and when I do, it’s usually some terribly boring and decorous occasion. There’s a good chance a Coruscant club would be much more fun. That is,” Qui-Gon added cautiously, “if you wouldn’t be embarrassed by my presence.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “I’m not some skittish adolescent anymore, Qui. Why wouldn’t I want to be with you? I’m just worried you won’t have a good time. Bruck and I are fairly easily entertained in a club.”

“I imagine I could be quite entertained just watching the two of you dance, if nothing else,” Qui-Gon said, eyes gleaming darkly. “Let’s see what I’ve got that’s suitable to wear.”

 

* * *

 

His first impressions were hardly surprising, and brought back a world of memories. Some things never changed: Noise—an insistent beat with harmonics flying like glass shards somewhere above it; laughter; the loud speech of a dozen different species. Heat. The aroma of human sweat and more pungent excretions laced with the scent of various volatile esters, vaporous inhalants, and combustible substances wafting through the circulation system. Subdued illumination punctuated by quasihypnotic flashes of varied wavelengths. The press of flesh in a roiling crowd. More stimulation than he’d remembered from his own days as a young padawan and knight, burning off tension and frustrations after missions.

And energy. So much energy. All these—mostly—young creatures seething with it, throwing it off in almost visible arcs like the fling of hair or sweat or tentacles. The Living Force was like a pyrotechnics display in this room. Qui-Gon had forgotten what it could be like. He felt almost drunk on that alone.

Qui-Gon hadn’t been much of a club-goer even in his younger days. Unlike some of his friends, notably Mace, his preferred method of relieving the tensions of a hard or disastrous mission was sex with someone he cared for, which gave him a true connection with another person and with the Living Force. But there’d been a long, dry period in his life when he hadn’t wanted any connections at all, even this superficial one. And Mace, hunkered firmly into his Council position, didn’t think clubbing was a dignified sort of recreation for him to be engaging in at their age. Smiling rather broadly to himself, Qui-Gon decided Mace needed to get out more. Just barely in the door and he was already enjoying himself, the beat moving insistently through his body.

The two younger men with him homed in on the bar once they were inside, and he followed, wading through the crowd with more ease but less finesse than the two he was following. Where they slithered through it, the crowd tended to part for him because of his size. There were few others in the room bigger or taller than he except for a stray Wookiee and a couple of Duros across the room. The clothing Obi-Wan had picked out for him helped too: a black vest lined in a startling blue, laced closed across his chest with nothing but skin beneath it, and the tightest dark pants he owned, tucked into his black dress boots. He’d braided his hair back, close to his skull, and threaded one of Obi-Wan’s favorite ties through it. The last time he’d looked quite this severe, Obi-Wan had still been merely his padawan, a young man of 19, and they’d been undercover as a rogue Finder and his slave. The only thing missing now was the jewelry their personas had worn and the unresolved sexual tension that had colored the whole mission. Qui-Gon missed the former but not the latter. It was much better being able to fuck each other than to try to channel all that desire into other pursuits or the calm of meditation.

By the time he reached the bar, Bruck already had a glass in his hand and Obi-Wan was extending one to him with a smile—not his usual wine but a liqueur in a large, delicate glass. Qui-Gon swirled it gently and sniffed, then looked up and smiled. Corellian brandy. An expensive treat he rarely indulged in.

Bruck touched the rim of his glass. “Cheers,” he shouted.

“ _Slanche_.” Qui-Gon returned in Corellian at a dull roar just above the volume of the bar. “What about you?” he nodded to Obi-Wan.

The young knight held up a thin clear tube with blue vapor swirling inside it. “Want one?”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “They usually give me a headache. I’ll stick with my own poison.”

Obi-Wan shrugged and, holding the tube beneath his nose, snapped it open against his thumbs, inhaling the vapor before it could dissipate into the already miasmic atmosphere. Qui-Gon watched his eyes dilate almost instantly and a dreamy smile steal over his lips, then leaned in and kissed him, tasting the metallic vapor in Obi-Wan’s mouth. Obi-Wan kissed him back and rubbed against him like some slinky animal in heat. “Go dance with Bruck. I want to watch,” Qui-Gon growled in his lover’s ear, pushing him gently into Bruck’s arms.

And he did watch for a while, avidly. The two young men waded into the crowd, but not too far away, and began to dance, their bodies becoming physical representations of the beat. Qui-Gon leaned against the bar, drink in hand, enjoying the spectacle, the warmth and mellowness of the liquor, and occasionally fending off suitors of his own.

Even now that Obi-Wan had lost his own braid and tail, he and Bruck were still almost mirror images of one another: the young knight in the black leather pants Bruck had given him and a sleeveless, white, clinging shirt; Bruck in equally tight silvered leather and a black shirt. Where Obi-Wan’s body had the sinuous grace of a swimmer and gymnast, Bruck danced with the same elegance with which he won combat championships. Bruck’s padawan braid seemed to have a life of its own and Obi-Wan occasionally used it as a leash, drawing Bruck in for kiss or a grope, much the way Qui-Gon had when he and Obi-Wan had become lovers.

The spectacle was mouthwatering. Others on the dance floor seemed to think so too, and the two young men occasionally fended off hands and other appendages with the “suggestion” that it wasn’t polite to grope without consent and perhaps the groper should rethink that course of action, now and in the future. But Qui-Gon had permission to do more than watch, and it wasn’t long before the brandy—and other stimulants—made him decide he wanted some of the action himself.

He danced for some time with both of them, surprising only the other spectators with the fluidity of his movements. Unlike his two younger partners, however, Qui-Gon danced with the same serene intensity he brought to everything he did. Bruck and Obi-Wan were like two smaller satellites around him, when they weren’t an undulating unit, pressed together in the club’s heat and generating a great deal of their own.

 

It was in the middle of one of these three-way clinches that Obi-Wan slipped from between them to relieve himself, leaving Bruck and Qui-Gon dancing together. The music seemed to turn itself up a notch and Bruck followed, throwing himself into it with abandon, eyes closed. After a moment, he felt hands on him, not groping, but steadying and guiding and he let himself fall into the direction, and found himself whirled and turned, clasped and lifted. The crowd spread out around them, giving them room, and he caught a vague glimpse of Kenobi’s face in it as he spun around. They were making quite a spectacle. Bruck had had no idea Qui-Gon was such a good dancer. And if he’d been worried about Ben’s reaction, he needn’t have been. The look he’d caught on Ben’s face was almost hungry.

Qui-Gon set him down, grinning wolfishly, and began what Bruck suddenly realized was a slow stalking. Still moving with the music, the two of them circled each other, less than clear about who was pursuing whom.

Qui-Gon was—was _flirting_ with him.

That sent a blip of panic through him which Ben seemed to sense. He slithered into their little circle and up behind Bruck, pushing him closer until the three of them were sandwiched together again, this time with Bruck in the middle.

“Bit off more than you can chew?” Ben shouted in his ear, grinding against his ass and pushing him forward against Qui-Gon’s thigh. Bruck swallowed hard and looked up. Qui-Gon was smiling slyly at both of them.

Then, abruptly, he stepped back, giving them both room and mimed getting himself a drink with a raised eyebrow. A little dazed, Bruck shook his head and watched Qui-Gon nod and turn toward the bar. Ben’s arms went around him then, fingers sneaking into the top of his pants. “You’re playing with fire,” Kenobi growled in his ear.

“You, or him?” Bruck shot back, moving Ben’s hands and turning in the embrace. Kenobi’s eyes were dilated and dark, his mouth quirked in its own sly grin. Bruck thought that on another night, they’d be heading out to the alley about now.

“Either. Both.”

“I’ve always been a bit of a pyro.”

“So you have,” was all Ben said, sliding his fingers back down below the waist of Bruck’s pants and leaning in for a kiss.

 

The rest of the evening was less eventful, but no less pleasant. By the time they decided to leave, Obi-Wan was deliciously giddy, Bruck just drunk enough to be expansive and amusing, and Qui-Gon comfortably warmed, relaxed, and thoroughly enjoying himself. It had been far too long since he’d had a night of purely physical entertainment that didn’t involve taking his clothes off—although he was looking forward to doing that when they got home.

They took a cab home, Obi-Wan managing to wind up in the middle of the large rear seat. He slouched bonelessly between them, head resting against the back of the seat, eyes slitted, silly smile on his face, either hand stroking lightly up and down the inside of his companions’ thighs. It made Bruck shift uncomfortably in his seat, Qui-Gon observed. He wondered for a moment which one of them Obi-Wan was planning on going home with. Then he had a wicked thought and turned toward the window to hide the smile it provoked.

“What?” Obi-Wan prodded, sensing his amusement.

“Nothing,” Qui-Gon replied with far too much innocence. “Just thinking how much I’ve enjoyed myself this evening, and what a shame it is to have it end.”

They set down on the landing platform near the Temple and got out, Obi-Wan passing over a credit chip and a tip before joining his former master. The cab pulled away, leaving Bruck on the other side of the small gap.

“I thought perhaps Bruck might like to come back to our quarters,” Qui-Gon said, eyes sparkling mischieviously. “For a nightcap.” Obi-Wan gawked at him, and Bruck let out a startled laugh.

“Uh, no, thanks, Qui-Gon. I’ve got an early class tomorrow. But I’m glad you came out with us.”

“Yes. So am I. And I thank you for the invitation. We’ll have to do it again some time. Good night, Bruck.”

Obi-Wan closed the distance between them, a little self-consciously, gave Bruck an uncharacteristically quick kiss. “See you tomorrow night,” he whispered. “Promise.”

“Yeah,” Bruck agreed. “Tomorrow night.”

 

“What was that all about?” Obi-Wan demanded once they were through the entrance and inside the Temple and it was clear that Bruck wasn’t tagging along with them.

“What was what?” Qui-Gon countered innocently, lips twitching.

“Asking Bruck back to our quarters. ‘For a nightcap.’ Honestly, Qui, how smooth is that?”

“Losing my touch, am I?”

Obi-Wan barked a laugh and shook his head. “Who knew you were such a dirty old man, seducing padawans like that?”

“Oh, I think you were well aware of that fact, Knight Kenobi, and have been for many years,” Qui-Gon replied in a mild tone, his fingers sliding beneath the waist of Obi-Wan’s tight black pants.

 

Bruck watched the two of them walk away, still a little astonished. A few minutes later, another cab pulled up to the landing platform and Bruck watched a tall, leggy redhead emerge from it.

“Did you get it?” he said, falling into step beside Isa as the cab departed. “No trouble getting in? I didn’t see you—”

“Yes I got it! I got it! Lots of great stuff.” Isa was nearly bouncing in a very un-Jedi-like manner. She looked as excited as a crechling on a sugar jag, a side of her Bruck hadn’t seen before. For once, she actually seemed the six years younger than him that she was. He found it disturbingly cute and endearing. “And _Force!_ you three were hot. The free-floating lust you generated could have fueled a small power station. I should have brought a change of underwear.”

Bruck grinned. “Hope you saved some for me. The free-floating lust, not the underwear. Did you get flatpics too?”

“Everything. The holo looks just like your sketches. Come on, I need to get to work.”

“Afterburners off, Hypergirl,” Bruck laughed at her. “I’m hungry. Let’s go eat something. I was working hard, too, remember?”

“Yeah, working hard in more ways than one,” she snorted. “It’s a wonder you didn’t come in your pants the way you were grinding against each other. I want you to _see_ it! It’s so _crack_!”

“Not here. Wait until we’re alone.” He leaned over and kissed her, slowly and carefully. She fought him for a moment then settled into it, face flushed and eyes even brighter with a different kind of excitement when they finally broke again.

“Well, hurry up and eat then,” she said, following him to the refectory. “I’ve got other things I want to do with you, too.”

Bruck grinned. “That makes two of us.”

 

Obi-Wan felt a slow flush creep up from his chest to his neck and through his face. It was something Bruck might do, right here in the halls of the temple: slide his hand into his lover’s pants and walk down the hall like that. It was something he and Bruck had often done, but he and Qui-Gon . . . no. Not in public like this, not unless they were on a mission together where it had been “appropriate.” Come to think of it, they’d never been on a mission where it had been appropriate after they’d become lovers. And Qui-Gon hadn’t been comfortable with public displays of affection before Obi-Wan had been knighted.

Apparently that had changed.

Smiling, Obi-Wan wove his arm beneath Qui-Gon’s and around his hip, sliding his own fingers down beneath the tight waist of Qui-Gon’s pants. A gratifying shiver ran through the big man.

“How many times would you have had sex by now, if I hadn’t been with you?” Qui-Gon asked him in a conversational tone that was a little too studied.

“Oh, at least once already, probably at the club, or in the alley,” Obi-Wan replied airly. “Possibly in the cab.”

Qui-Gon gave him a scandalized look that made him grin. “In the _cab_?”

Obi-Wan felt his face go hot again. “Ah, we only did that once.”

“In the cab?” Qui-Gon repeated.

“It was a servo-driver. That’s as good as being alone,” Obi-Wan replied weakly.

“With the hundreds of other people in your traffic lane. I never knew you had a penchant for public sex, Obi-Wan.”

“Bruck usually starts it,” he mumbled.

“Really,” Qui-Gon replied drily. “Like the night I caught you two outside—”

“Don’t. You promised you’d never bring that up again.”

“So I did. My apologies.”

“Accepted—but you could make it up to me.”

Qui-Gon merely looked at him and raised an eyebrow by way of reply. Obi-Wan pushed on, needing little encouragement. He wanted to see what kind of limits this newly publicly affectionate Qui-Gon had. “Say, in the lift, perhaps.”

 

“Oooh . . . ooooh, yeah!” Bruck exclaimed some time later. “These are great! You’re a genius, Isa. Is there anything you can’t make a comp do?”

“Not really,” she acknowledged with a confident grin. On the holostage beside her screen, vaguely cartoonish figures of Master Jinn and Knight Kenobi—the latter clean shaven but without his padawan braid or tail—posed and strutted in a soundless loop. Instead of their Jedi uniforms, they were garbed in colorful, form-fitting costumes with flowing capes attached to the shoulders. Across Qui-Gon’s chest was emblazoned a large green A, while Obi-Wan sported a large blue S and an exaggerated shimmy to his hips.

“I love this!” Bruck chortled. “You got his walk dead on. These’ll be great references for the drawings too, since I can’t get Ben to stand still for more than two minutes. You,” Bruck leaned over and murmured, “are brilliant, and funny, and beautiful, Hypergirl,” he said, punctuating each adjective with a kiss.

She slithered into his arms and wrapped herself around him. “So give me my reward, B-Boy.”

“I thought superheroes didn’t need a reward,” he said, closing his arms around her.

“Their alter-egos do.”

“Hey, that’s kinda kinky, isn’t it?” Bruck teased between kisses. “It’s almost like makin’ out with two different people.”

“Yeah, but you only get to sleep with one of them. Besides, I saw Master Jinn flirting with you. You’ve got enough on your plate without two of me.”

Bruck backed her to her bed and pushed her down gently. “Two of you . . . are you tryin’ to kill me?”

Her nimble fingers unfastened his pants as he loomed over her. “That’s the only response I’m looking for,” she purred, wrapping her fingers around Bruck’s hard cock and squeezing.

Bruck gasped and shivered, and hurriedly shed what he was wearing, then proceeded to peel Isa like a piece of fruit, licking and nibbling as he went. Giggles rapidly turned to more importunate sounds and from there to gasps and wordless cries, finally to Bruck’s name in a pleading voice.

“Mmmm,” he sighed later, kissing Isa gently and cupping her breast. “That’s so much nicer than Kenobi’s new beard.”

“Looks good on him,” Isa said sleepily, snuggling up to him. “You don’t like it?”

“No, it looks great. Rug burn just doesn’t appeal to me. I’d just much rather kiss you now.”

“Bet you say that to all the girls, B-boy.”

“Naw, just the ones whose pants I want to get into.”

She pinched his ass and made him yelp. “Disappointed that you didn’t go home with him?”

“Now that’s a loaded question if I ever heard one.”

“It’s okay if you are, B-Boy. You’ve been lovers a long time. Longer than we have. And he’s been gone for a halfyear.”

Bruck was silent for a while, fingers moving idly over Isa’s milky, freckled skin, some part of him still marveling at how much softer it was than Ben’s. “You know, I really missed him when he was gone,” he began at last. “but it’s not like I’m dying to fuck him now that he’s back. It was really good to see him tonight, and go dancing, and flirt, but I was almost—relieved when he and Qui-Gon went home together.”

Isa propped herself up on one elbow. “Why’s that?” she asked, looking puzzled.

“I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve got you. Ben’s a knight now, and I won’t be for a while yet—“

“Don’t start that again. Your master told you he was putting you in for the trials in a halfyear.”

Bruck snorted. “Even if he does, I still have to pass them. And I’ll believe that when I see a long white braid tied off at both ends. Anyway,” he went on, “it just seems different, somehow. He’s different. I’m different. And tonight was just weird, not in a bad way, but different with Qui-Gon there. We’re going to see each other alone tomorrow night though. We’ll see what happens then.”

“Then I’d suggest you wait until after tomorrow night to put this in motion,” Isa said with a wicked grin. “Afterwards, you might never get boy-fucked again.”

“Mmm, I think I could deal with that,” Bruck murmured and pulled her over on top of him. “As long as I’ve got a Hypergirl to come home to.”

 

“Oh gods Qui hurry hurry hurry hnnh—” The remaining vocalizations came out as nothing but a whine as his brain began to melt. He could hardly believe Qui-Gon was sucking him off, right here in the lift in the Temple on the way to their quarters, something that had been a fantasy of his for some time. The moment they’d gotten in it, he’d turned on Obi-Wan, slid to his knees and had the younger man’s cock out of his tight pants almost before Obi-Wan knew what was happening. He’d been hard immediately. Qui-Gon had worked his way down Obi-Wan’s cock until it was nearly down his throat, his tongue curling round it like something with a mind of its own. A little more time was all he needed, and a little more suction, just a little more. _Please,_ he thought, _please don’t let us stop anywhere._ Granted, it was something like an hour or two before dawn, the dead of night, and the chances of their being caught—

He was barely aware that the lift had halted, but it did occur to him that it couldn’t possibly yet be their floor. Two large, startled pairs of luminescent eyes met his own as he glanced through the open door. One belonged to a Calamari he didn’t know, the other to, oh gods, to, to . . .

“Bant!” he gasped.

“Kenobi!” she squeaked, taking in the scene in a glance: Qui-Gon on his knees, face buried in Obi-Wan’s groin, Kenobi flushed and disheveled in the corner. “Uh, sorry, we’ll uh, take the next one. Yes. The next one. Good night.”

“G’night,” he mumbled as the doors closed again. If his brain had been melting before, his face now felt like it might be soon following suit. His cock was right behind in the shriveling, having slipped from the warmth of his lover’s mouth. And Qui—Little Gods, he’d mortally embarrassed the man.

His master had leaned his forehead against Obi-Wan’s belly and was frighteningly silent, though his hands were clutching the backs of Obi-Wan’s thighs almost hard enough to bruise. He was a little afraid, and very much mortified when Qui-Gon’s shoulders began to shake. In horror, he started to kneel down, but Qui-Gon leaned back and looked up into his face with tears in his eyes and a pained expression.

Then he burst out laughing, clutching Obi-Wan and leaning against him helplessly.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and collapsed back against the wall of the lift in relief, then began to tuck himself back in again. “Of all the people,” he muttered disgustedly.

Qui-Gon struggled to his feet, still laughing helplessly. “Her species is naturally nocturnal, Obi-Wan. And just think: it could have been Mace.”

“Or Yoda!” they said together in mutual horror, then both burst out laughing again.

By the time the lift doors opened at their own floor, an observer would have noticed nothing unusual about Kenobi and Jinn obviously returning from a night out, except for the lateness of the hour.

Halfway down the hall, Qui-Gon leaned over and murmured into Obi-Wan’s ear. “I believe we’re even now for that little escapade outside our door with Bruck. So when we get inside, I’m going to bend you over the nearest chair and fuck you so hard you won’t walk straight for a ten.”

Obi-Wan shivered. “Promise?”

 

* * *

 

Bruck followed Ben’s casual saunter into the locker room, thinking it was rather less casual and rather more careful than usual. The impression was only strengthened by the ginger manner in which he sat on the bench to remove his boots.

“You _sucked_ out there today, Kenobi,” Siri informed him, with a special and gleeful emphasis on that particular word. “Just because you’re a knight now doesn’t mean you can _screw_ off.” Ben scowled, but didn’t deign to reply.

“She’s right, you know,” Bruck added, “but I can guess why. Qui-Gon pound you into the mattress last night? Even after Bant caught you two in the lift?”

Kenobi groaned softly and hid his face in his hands. “Who else knows? Everyone?”

“I think Bant’s entire table would have known, but Qui-Gon walked by as she was whispering it to Siri and gave her his full-strength, patented Wrathful Jedi Master look. Froze her in mid-word. I don’t think she’ll be spreading that story very far, or Siri either. I heard it from Isa, who heard it from Siri. I think that’s the main reason they’re friends; Siri gets all the good gossip.”

“From Bant, the little squeak.”

Kenobi flung his locker door open savagely then reared back as a hologram popped into existence nearly in his face. It took him only a split second to work out that it was a caricature, clearly of him and his former master wearing some kind of absurd superhero costumes, Qui-Gon’s with a large green “A” emblazoned across the chest and a handy, zippered codpiece, his own with a blue “S” at the shoulder and the skimpiest pair of shorts he’d ever seen, zippered from front to back through the crotch. They stood arms akimbo on the tip of a, a—no, that wasn’t—it couldn’t be a giant, disembodied, furiously erect human penis—

It was.

Transfixed, Kenobi watched as wind streamed through the figures’ hair and blew their capes back behind them. Lettering appeared in an arc above them: _The Adventures of . . . Ass Master & Slutboy._ The gigantic penis on which they were standing shuddered and erupted like a volcano, and the two heroes launched themselves into the air, flying off out of the hologram’s frame, _Making the Galaxy Safe for Orgasms,_ floating in their wake. Laughter echoed behind him. He stared, horrified, as the little holoflic ran its course and faded out, then carefully closed his locker door once more and rounded on Bruck, who was looking completely, and honestly, mystified, the door having blocked his view.

“You. Are. A. Dead. Man.” Kenobi hissed.

 

* * *

 

News of the figures was all over the Temple by lastmeal, at least among the padawan population. Qui-Gon was playing the original hologram at the table with apparent amusement when Obi-Wan returned from a very long bout of meditation.

“It's quite a good likeness,” Qui-Gon said as Obi-Wan removed his boots, “though I think the artist has exaggerated my chest and, ah, certain appendages.”

“No, he hasn't,” Obi-Wan snapped, fuming as he walked over to stand beside Qui-Gon and watch the hologram again as it looped. Unconsciously, he mimicked the pose of his character. Qui-Gon observed this but said nothing, ducking his head to hide his smile. “How did you get hold of this?”

“Bruck dropped by with it after you stormed out of the locker room. It was intended, he said, to be a surprise for your nameday, and a private one at that. Apparently, he’s been working on a _grafika_ to go with it. He has no idea how it got into your locker.”

“He says.”

“I believe him,” Qui-Gon said. “He was too embarrassed and too furious himself about having his surprise spoiled and having it made so public. As a private gift, you must admit it’s quite original and very funny. Quite clever, really.”

“How can you laugh about this, Qui? It’s such a, an affront!”

“Remember what I was just caught doing with you in lift last night?” Qui-Gon responded, raising an eyebrow. “How could I possibly be offended by something like this, meant to be a private joke, after making such a public fool of myself with you?”

Obi-Wan’s indignation wilted a bit. “I’m sorry, Qui—”

“Don’t be. I quite enjoyed it. I felt quite reckless and young.” He pulled a reluctant Obi-Wan onto his lap and held him, nuzzling his neck. “You make me feel reckless and young. I want to do things with you that I haven’t done since Mace and I were new knights getting each other into trouble,” he growled, nipping an earlobe.

Obi-Wan squirmed around in his lap until he was straddling it, arms around Qui-Gon’s neck, hands buried in his hair. “Really?”

“Yes,” he affirmed, hands sliding down Obi-Wan’s back to cradle his buttocks. “As for this,” he nodded toward the hologram, “it’s only what I deserve, after last night. But I don’t think it was aimed at me, love, not in this context, or it would have been in my locker and not yours. It’s still a good joke, at our expense. Don’t be angry with Bruck. He wasn’t the instigator.” Qui-Gon licked a path along Obi-Wan’s neck downwards toward his shoulder, then gently bit the juncture.

Obi-Wan lifted his chin and let Qui-Gon nibble at him, knowing full well what he was doing. Despite himself, the distraction was working. So by the time Qui-Gon murmured, “Whom do you suspect, if not Bruck?” Obi-Wan had to jerk his mind back into a completely different track of thought.

“Siri, maybe, although it seems a little cruel even for her. We snipe, but we don’t really dislike each other. I don’t know. Maybe Bruck can find out. I have other things to do right now.” He leaned in for a kiss and Qui-Gon tightened his fingers into the muscles cupped in his hands.

Behind them, in the looped hologram, the giant penis erupted again.

 

* * *

 

“Muln? Garen Muln? Ben’s ex-best friend? Are you sure?” Bruck said suspiciously. It seemed far too convenient, if all too logical.

“He’s left a perfect trail that goes right back to his com terminal, the shit,” Isa confirmed. “And he just barely tried to cover it up. I think he wants you to know he did it.”

They were sitting at dinner by themselves in a corner of the refectory, trays disposed of, only tea and the last of dessert in front of them. Isa had been just as furious as Bruck when he’d come to find her after visiting the Jinn-Kenobi quarters. “He managed to get into my terminal and copy the holofile. From there, all he had to do is load it into a blank stage, program the loop and slip it into Kenobi’s locker while you and Siri were beating up on Kenobi in the salles.”

“We were not beating up on him,” Bruck protested. “Would Garen be that stupid?”

“It’s hard to say, but I’d bet he didn’t come looking for it. He couldn’t have known about it, for one thing, since I didn’t mention your project to anyone and neither did you. I think what happened was that he cracked my terminal’s security codes—” 

“Why would he even do that, though?”

“Oh, we crackheads are always doing that with each other. It’s a game, and it keeps us sharp and in practice. Usually we leave joke files on each other’s terminals: stupid picfiles, embarrassing porn, snotty messages, but no real malfiles. Come to think of it, Garen owes me one for the last time I cracked his terminal. What we don’t do is rifle each other’s files, though. There’s a sort of unwritten rule about that. You can go as deep into the file structure as you can get, but you’re not supposed to look at or take anything, even a copy. Garen knows that as well as anybody. And the holofiles weren’t very heavily encrypted because I didn’t think anybody would. That’s my fault.” Isa looked angry and miserable at the same time. “I should apologize to Kenobi and Master Jinn.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” Bruck replied hotly. If Garen were responsible for this stunt, then he’d hurt not just the main targets, but innocent bystanders as well. Isa had been doing Bruck a good turn, helping him with the programming for the animation and getting the original reference art. Muln had screwed that up. “Those were private, personal files and Garen had no right to them, whether he was cracking your terminal as a game or not. You said he knows that. It was _theft_ , Isa. Those files belonged to us.”

“Technically, those files were yours, since I was only helping out with the programming. I don’t have any claim to them. I just don’t understand why Garen would do this.”

“Because he’s a self-righteous little prick and he thinks he can get me into trouble,” Bruck snapped, then caught himself. “Sorry. I just wish he’d get over it. He’s worse than I ever was with Ben. Now he’s embarrassed Ben and Qui at my expense because he thinks Ben carrying on with his master and fucking me is wrong. And technically, that holo could give me another round of demerits on my record for disrespect to a knight and a master if Qui-Gon didn’t have such a good sense of humor. Muln thinks I’ll just let him do it, like I’ve let him slide before without making a fuss.”

“So what are we going to do about it? Turn him in?”

Bruck was silent for a time, thinking about it. Garen would probably expect him to, because it was something he’d do, if the situation were reversed. Idiot. Was he trying to get caught? No, Bruck decided, Muln was trying to stir shit. He’d gone from bullying Bruck to embarrassing Kenobi and Qui-Gon and trying to pin it on Bruck. He had the file now, if not proof that it was Bruck’s and it could potentially be used against him with the Council. If successful, it could also possibly turn Ben against him. What Muln hadn’t counted on was the closeness of the three targets’ relationship. Qui-Gon had found the whole thing hilarious and didn’t seem to doubt Bruck’s explanation. Ben would be a harder sell, but Bruck had the _grafika_ , still only partially finished, to back it up, and Qui-Gon’s persuasiveness and influence with Ben. That meant Muln’s plan had failed.

And now, Muln had unwittingly given Bruck something he’d been looking for for a long time: a bucket of warm piss to hold over Garen’s head.

Isa dipped a finger into her dessert bowl and scooped the sides for the last of her pudding. Absently, Bruck watched her lick it off. Noticing, she smiled, scooped the inside of his bowl and offered her finger.

“You’re wicked,” he murmured, taking it in in one go and savoring the taste and sensation as she slowly withdrew it. “And yummy.”

“Thank you.”

“And clever. Let’s send Muln a little message, Hypergirl. I’m going to tell Qui and Ben who did this, but that’s all. Then I’ll do a little flatpic and you can deliver it to Muln’s terminal with a copy of the cracker trail he left. No threats. I just want to let him know we’re on to him.”

“I’ll embed it into his operating code so it’ll reappear every time he logs in, no matter where.”

“No, that’s stooping to his level. I want to be subtle about this. Just put it somewhere on his home welcome screen so he sees it right away. The flatpic will be insulting enough, believe me.”

“It’s nice to see you using your powers for good, B-Boy,” Isa nodded approvingly. “Come on, we’ve got some work to do.”

 

* * *

 

Talk of the holoflic died down within a few days, since there was no more said about it by the involved parties. Kenobi ignored any jibes about it from his friends with his usual dignity, and turned a fierce green-eyed gaze and raised eyebrow on any younger padawans who dared whisper about him as he passed.

No one, of course, dared whisper anything about Master Jinn within earshot, although he did find himself the object of a lecture from Mace at dinner one night, over the episode in the lift. Qui-Gon wondered how he’d found out, and endured the mild excoriation with good humor. Mace wasn’t getting laid, and they both knew it, and that was what it was really all about, in the end. His own master merely cackled and threw him a wink. At that, Mace threw up his hands in disgust and took himself away, thinking that it was no wonder Qui-Gon had ended up the way he had with a master like Yoda.

And on Obi-Wan’s nameday, Bruck delivered the _grafika_ to go with the holo, which had now been expanded into a full-blown teaser. There was no party this year since only Bruck was in temple and he due to leave in the morning, but Qui-Gon invited him over for a quiet celebration with sweets and drinks.

“I know these things are one of your secret vices, like Qui’s cheesy detective stories—” Bruck explained, grinning as he handed the little booklet over. Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. “There’s nothing cheesy about my detective stories.” “—so I thought this would be a great present. It didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to, exactly, but I think you’ll still get a kick out of it.”

Dubiously, Obi-Wan took it and sat back on the sofa. Qui-Gon leaned over his shoulder for a look at the luridly colorful little comic with their caricatured likenesses in glossy neon on the cover. “You’ve certainly got the style down. I didn’t know you did _grafikas_.” Obi-Wan said, slowly warming to it despite himself. Bruck had obviously studied the style enough to extract the best of its features and give them his own personal twist, so it was certainly a _grafika_ , but unlike any other Obi-Wan had seen. It was also unabashedly erotic and very funny.

“I don’t, but it was interesting learning the style. I just hope you like it.”

Obi-Wan was flipping through it with enthusiasm now. “It’s great. How did you—oh, that’s why you wanted us to come out to the club! You bastard. Who took the pics? Isa? Did you write it too?”

Bruck nodded, relaxing a little now that it seemed Kenobi actually liked his gift. “Yeah, Isa took the pics and helped with the animation coding. The story’s all mine, though she suggested some of the dialogue.”

He watched the two of them flip through it together, studying their faces. Qui-Gon’s was alternately highly amused and mildly aroused. Ben actually laughed aloud at several points and threw pointed looks in Qui-Gon’s direction, whose hand crept slowly up Obi-Wan’s thigh as they read together. Bruck finished his tea and got to his feet.

“I’ve got an early morning,” he said casually. “Thanks for the cake, and happy nameday, Ben. I’ll see you when I get back.” He planted a quick kiss on the top of Ben’s distracted head then knuckled it affectionately. Qui-Gon threw him a wink as he slipped out the door. Once outside, he flung an imaginary cape over his shoulder, murmured “My work here is done,” and strode down the hall, grinning.

 

Inside, Qui-Gon nuzzled his partner and put his hand firmly in Obi-Wan’s lap, kneading gently. “Who knew Bruck had such a dirty mind?” he murmured.

Obi-Wan only snorted, rocking a little into Qui-Gon’s touch. Becoming thoroughly distracted, he dropped the _grafika_ on the table in front of them and focused vaguely on the looping holo that went with it. It now included a scene of the two of them grinding against each other in the club in the _grafika_ ’s mock every-day identities. Obi-Wan turned into Qui-Gon’s roaming mouth and caught his lips. After a few moments of mutual exploration, Obi-Wan moved to the side of Qui-Gon’s neck, the spot guaranteed to make him shudder. He sucked gently on it, eliciting the expected response, and whispered in his ear: “And what has my master got for me today? Another stone? Or a pair?” His hand strayed into Qui-Gon’s lap and squeezed gently.

“Just, ah, just one this year,” Qui-Gon murmured, momentarily distracted. “Come into the bedroom. And bring your presents from Bruck.”

Grinning with anticipation, Obi-Wan followed his lover into their bedroom. It was the first time he’d been in it since this morning, having been warned off by Qui-Gon at firstmeal. Inside, on the small table beside their bed, Qui-Gon had constructed something very like a shrine with an oil lamp floating in a small copper bowl and a stick of incense in a holder waiting to be burned. A holo of each of them flanked a sizeable, lifelike stone penis, carved in loving detail and polished to a high gloss. The stone it was carved from was flecked blue and green, with fine veins of gold running through it and its flanged base interlocked with a wooden stand to hold its curved form upright.

Still holding his presents from Bruck, Obi-Wan laughed. “I should know better than to be surprised by anything you do, but you’ve really outdone yourself this year, Qui.” He put his other gifts down on the bed and picked up the carving. It seemed wrong somehow to call it a dildo; it was as much a work of art as anything else he’d seen. “This is beautiful. Is it functional as well?”

“Oh, yes. Quite, with a little lube. It’s called a kanama.”

“Ah, from Kanime, the Dannoran love goddess.” Obi-Wan plastered himself against his lover. “Would you like to help me make an offering to her?” he purred, rubbing against Qui-Gon’s hip.

“I think that would please all of us,” Qui-Gon smirked.

Shortly afterwards, Obi-Wan was naked, draped decoratively over the bench and watching in the mirror with anticipation as Qui-Gon, equally naked, settled himself on a cushion behind, spreading Obi-Wan’s knees. The oil lamp and incense had been lit and the holostage with Bruck’s flic had taken the place of the new stone votive, which lay beside Obi-Wan on the bench. He was already trembling before Qui-Gon even laid hands on him.

Almost reverently, Qui-Gon ran his large hands up the backs of Obi-Wan’s thighs to his ass, then laid down a trail of kisses across the firm muscles and nipped just a little here and there, making Obi-Wan squirm. They’d both washed thoroughly after removing their clothes and Qui-Gon was enjoying the clean musky scent of his lover. He rubbed his beard against the younger man’s buttocks, leaving the skin pinkened in his wake, and dragged his chin up the crack to the monogram, then back down again. Finally, he slipped his thumbs between the taut hemispheres and spread them, revealing the tight pucker of muscle.

Obi-Wan moaned and sank bonelessly against the bench as Qui-Gon’s tongue licked upward from his perineum to his anus, then circled his tongue around it. This always made him weak in knees, and Qui-Gon was especially good at it. All but his cock was limp as a wet rag by the time Qui-Gon actually pushed his tongue inside, making devouring animalistic noises. Obi-Wan shuddered and moaned as it went on, the prickle of beard scraping against tender skin, the wriggling wet tongue pushing inside him. He wasn’t anywhere near coming, but he was terribly excited and couldn’t have supported his own weight if his life had depended on it.

Finally, Qui-Gon leaned back. “Do you want me to warm this first?”

“What?” Obi-Wan returned dazedly, brain reduced to its autonomic functions. Higher thought wouldn’t be possible for several more minutes.

Qui-Gon sent amusement along the bond at him. “Look at yourself, love,” he said.

Obi-Wan turned his head back to the mirror and found a tousled and bearded young man staring back at him with hooded eyes and a sleepy smile on his face. “See what you do to me?” he sighed and lay his head on the bench. “You really are the Ass Master,” he murmured happily.

Qui-Gon laughed. “Now look at your counterpart in the holo,” he directed. Obi-Wan looked up and laughed too. The position they were in right now was being echoed by the holo, with their avatars fucking shamelessly in their uniforms, the zippers of Slutboy’s shorts gaping, Ass Master’s groin pressed to his favorite part of Slutboy’s anatomy. It was funny now, in private, especially the look on his avatar’s face. Gods! Did he really look like that when he was coming?

Qui-Gon kissed the back of his neck and pinched his nipple, returning him to the now of their own love-making. “Watch now, love. Watch our offering to Kanime. Watch.”

And Obi-Wan did, as Qui-Gon slicked the stone votive with lube and pushed it against the relaxed ring of muscles. It slipped in easily and Qui-Gon angled it to hit his prostate as it did. Obi-Wan shuddered and cried out as the hard, polished, flared head rubbed over it, sending a shock wave up his spine and into his groin. Qui-Gon slowly pushed the stone in farther, watching Obi-Wan’s face in the mirror.

“Tell me what it’s like, love,” he said.

“It’s, uh, oh gods, Qui. It’s as big as yours, nearly, but heavier, more solid. Put it all the way in. I want it all inside me.”

Slowly, Qui-Gon pushed it in until the ring of muscles closed around the neck of the flange, holding it inside. Obi-Wan moaned. “Oh gods Qui. It’s so heavy. I thought it would be like those balls, but it’s so solid and a little cold. It’s just sitting against my prostate. If I just move a little—” and he did, pleasure spreading through him. The weight of it was like nothing he’d ever experienced. For a moment, his body wanted to push it out, but when he started to move again with it inside him, the pleasure was so intense that it cancelled out that impulse. Instead, he clamped down hard around it, pulling it in.

 

Qui-Gon leaned in again and licked around the flange, at the same time reaching under him to cup his scrotum and roll his testicles, making his lover hiss and writhe in pleasure. Obi-Wan was so wonderfully responsive and expressive, and Bruck had caught that in the both the holoflic and _grafika_. Qui-Gon was going to enjoy both of them immensely, possibly more than Obi-Wan. He leaned back and moved the stone votive in and out, fucking Obi-Wan slowly with it, making sure to angle the curve to hit his prostate and watching in the mirror as the pleasure flowed in waves over his face. It fed back through the bond as well, filling it with the taste of spice and smoke and tea, making both their cocks weep.

Finally, Obi-Wan reached back and stopped his hand. “Qui,” he gasped. “Stop. Stop. I want to come with you inside me. I want you to fuck me. There’s nothing like your cock.”

Qui-Gon kissed his way down Obi-Wan’s back as he slowly drew the stone out, drawing a long shudder from his lover. “You’re so beautiful, _kosai_. So beautiful,” he murmured, stroking over Obi-Wan’s skin and sliding home into the tight, slick channel. The younger man shuddered and moaned, sinking against the bench again, hand reaching for his own cock as Qui-Gon began to move. Qui-Gon’s hand found it first, fingers wrapping around the silken shaft and following his movements.

Though it started slow, it wasn’t long before they were rocking hard and fast into each other and Obi-Wan’s usual facility with words had totally disappeared. The sounds he made now told Qui-Gon a great deal and spurred him on at the same time. They moved in tandem, Qui-Gon surrounded by tight heat, Obi-Wan’s cock in his hand, building toward climax. Obi-Wan’s eyes were closed, his forehead creased in concentration, hanging onto the bench for dear life as Qui-Gon pounded into him, the only sound he made a long, drawn-out whine of the first syllable of his lover’s name.

Qui-Gon leaned over him and kissed his shoulder, the back of his neck. “Come for me, Slutboy. Come for me.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flew open in momentary outrage that disappeared as Qui-Gon’s thumb ran over the head of his cock and he was slammed hard against the bench, his master’s cock buried in him to the balls. That was all it took. Crying out and engulfed in waves of shuddering bliss, Obi-Wan came in thick spurts over Qui-Gon’s hand, clamping hard around his lover’s cock and pushing him over the edge as well. On the table beside their bed, the giant holographic penis ejaculated on cue.

Once again, the galaxy was safe for orgasms.


End file.
